NOT LONG AGO, TASER International requested a meeting with this magazine, and the honor fell to me. It seems the folks at TASER have contended with some bad publicity of late, and they’re making an effort to rehabilitate their “nonlethal” product in the eyes of a wary public. To that end, the president of the company, Rick Smith, and his publicist came over to persuade me of the merits of their stun gun.
First they tried to blind me with science–easily done. Next they softened me up with video of a few “perps” doing the electric boogaloo. Finally, they planned to finish the interview by giving me a chance to hold the weapon in my own hands. An effective strategy for dealing with a less dedicated journalist, I’m sure, but I was resolved to go all the way and find out for myself just how “nonlethal” this weapon really was.
Our meeting started with a PowerPoint presentation on the technical specifications of the TASER. There was some discussion of “electro-muscular disruption,” or EMD for short, a bit about “shape-pulse technology,” and then an explanation of joules, volts, and watts.
Now, it’s true I have acquired a measure of familiarity with firearms that I would guess is unusual among American Jewry. Talk to me about anything from a shotgun, to a .44 magnum revolver, to a .50 caliber rifle, and I’ve got a pretty good idea of the magnitude of the weapon in question. But mention joules and watts–well, you’ve lost me. I couldn’t quite grasp the science in high school, and I haven’t tried since. But I listened patiently, and all those watts and joules were still rattling around in my head at the end of our interview while they wired me up to experience the product.
The fact is, I’m fascinated by electricity. I have been since I was about five years old and got my first electrical appliance–a digital alarm clock. It was placed on the nightstand just to the right of my bed, and as soon as my parents tucked me in for the night I gave in to an overwhelming curiosity that had been building all day.
I started to fiddle with the cord coming out of the back of the clock. I followed it all the way to the plug protruding from the outlet just behind my head. In the dark, I managed to get one of my little fingers in between the prongs.
What followed was a shriek so high-pitched it would have inspired envy in a castrato. When my parents rushed in and discovered I’d electrified myself, they comforted me–and moved the clock across the room. Funny thing, though: As soon as they left me alone again I began to reflect on the strange sensation that had coursed through my hand. Was it really that bad? Why was I crying?
Should I do it again?
I can hardly remember anything from my early childhood, but, to paraphrase John Kerry, that night is seared–seared–into my memory. I can say with some confidence that it is the source of what, in retrospect, appears to be a long-standing ambivalence about the dangers of electricity. At summer camp I micturated on the electric fence used to keep the horses in their paddock–not something a precocious child would do, but I thought it brave. Last year I got an electric fly swatter. It’s shaped like a tennis racket and draws on two AA batteries to produce a spectacular shock. I have no sympathy for the bugs, but I still felt compelled to taste my own medicine (and give my friends a taste, too).
All of this came rushing back as Rick was connecting the apparatus. He attached one wire to my belt and another to the sock on my left foot. The wires led back to the TASER X26, a device capable of producing a charge of 5watts and .36 joules per pulse, numbers that were utterly meaningless to me, but that Rick said corresponded to a jolt that could do no permanent damage. Acrowd gathered round. And then . . . that very same shriek I had produced all those years ago.
The pain was excruciating. Still, as advertised, the dose was nonlethal. The tingling in my leg persisted for only a few minutes, while a certain giddiness lasted well into the evening.
Maybe that’s why I came away from this exercise in leave-no-stone-unturned journalism utterly sold, convinced that the TASER is a technological marvel, small enough to fit in a woman’s purse, capable of completely debilitating its target, and, in the event of an accidental discharge, perfectly safe. But please–don’t try this at home.
-Michael Goldfarb
